It Is Well with the Child

MYRTLE B. S. JACKSON

I know not where my loved one may be lying,
In field or forest, or by town or sea,
Whether on earth or in the gray clouds flying—
I only know he cannot come to me.
But looking upward through the night of weeping
I hear a voice call like a silver bell:
"Love's stars are out, and God His watch is keeping,—
All's well! All's well!"

I know not what the future may be sending,
What little store of wisdom, wealth, or rest;
So long to wait, the strife so never-ending,
Wrong so enflamed, and right so sorely pressed.
But looking onward through the night of sorrow,
Still rings the music like a silver bell:
"Love's stars are out; God governs the tomorrow,—
All's well! All's well!"

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